


Lean on Me

by Frostwells



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: 02x06, F/M, Friendship, If You Squint - Freeform, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romance, mention of depression, they both deserve better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 03:50:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14393691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostwells/pseuds/Frostwells
Summary: “No, I’m not alone,” she agreed before looking up at him, her honeyed eyes seeking reassurance. “I have you, don’t I?”Flynn gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll always have me, Lucy.”





	Lean on Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on what's going to happen tomorrow's episode 02x06, "The King of the Delta Blues". We're constantly being fed Garcy scenes and I'm honestly living.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN TIMELESS.  
> CLAIMER: I do own my caffeine-induced grammatical errors, like damn.

There were no words he could muster in any language to describe on what he felt for the time-travelling historian. He definitely liked her, there was no question there. Yet, he felt that the word ‘ _like’_ was too lackluster when regarding her.

Garcia Flynn _liked_ guns. He _liked_ belittling Wyatt Logan at every opportunity. He _liked_ the colour burgundy. Saying that he simply _liked_ Lucy Preston was an injustice – not only to him but to their relationship they bizarrely formed under the most unfortunate circumstances.

Perhaps, it wasn’t an emotion Flynn felt, or the experiences that bonded them together, but rather a _thing_ – an object – that made their relationship so unique, so different which went against the boundaries of social normality. And much to Lucy’s chagrin, she understood it as well.

Even when she had first met him, despite the fire and disorder around them from the Hindenburg explosion, a part of her believed Flynn when he had told her he knew everything about her. The look in his olive eyes, the look of familiarity when he gazed down at her in amidst chaos – maybe it was then that she acknowledged there was _something_ between them.

She just didn’t know the extent of it.

As they chased each other throughout time – she trying to stop him from murdering America’s historical figures, and he murdering her bloodline and organization – every time they reached an impasse, Flynn would always mention her goddamn journal. A journal she has yet to write.

“ _You wrote in here that one day, we would stop Rittenhouse. Together.”_

And despite the constant betrayals, the kidnapping and fighting, they’re finally together, just like she – or rather, future Lucy – promised.

X

It’s 1936 in Chattanooga, Tennessee, the middle of the Great Depression. Agent Christopher received intel that Rittenhouse had placed a sleeper agent in that timeline to assassinate the “Inventor of Rock n’ Roll.” No rebellion, no rise in the fight for equality of African-Americans; fit’s Rittenhouse’s MO to keep the world a Neo-Nazi, white elitist world.

Jiya, Rufus and Connor managed to upgrade the Lifeboat to accommodate another passenger, though to their own risk. Flynn volunteered to come while he mocked Wyatt to stay behind and catch up with his wife. Rufus and Connor opted to separate from the pair to search for Bessie Smith (though Lucy was quite sure the person who invented rock n’ roll was Sister Rosetta Tharpe, _not Bessie Smith_ who was the Empress of Jazz).

“ _We’re black, Lucy. Trust us. We got this.”_

Despite worrying about them, especially since this is Mason’s first mission with no historic or combat skills, Flynn convinced her to accompany him to scout and gather information. They played the role of husband and wife yet again, though Lucy convinced herself it was more convenient that way. Appearance wise, they look nothing alike and although she’s pretty certain he can mask his Croatian accent, Flynn wouldn’t want to unless it was absolutely necessary. So, playing as siblings was definitely out the window.

Unfortunately for her, that also meant booking a hotel room with _one_ bed.

As they checked in at a not-too-shabby looking hotel, the blonde receptionist – whose name Lucy had immediately forgotten – had been eyeing Flynn with interest and that made her feel a bit cautious. Did she recognize him? Was she the sleeper agent Rittenhouse had placed?

“I hope you and your wife,” She looked Lucy up and down with distaste before regarding Flynn with a coy smile, “enjoy your stay…” The receptionist trailed off, leaving the sentence open as an invite; an invite to something more scandalous.

Flynn opened his mouth to reply to the busty blonde but Lucy immediately replied by wrapping her arm around his own, shooting the receptionist an icy smile. “I’m sure my _husband_ and I will have a lovely stay.” Lucy peered up at Flynn who looked amused at the whole spectacle, understanding on what’s happening. “Don’t you think so, sweetheart?”

The older man leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead, his lips warm against her cool skin, which was no doubt heating up from embarrassment. Lucy tried her hardest not to look surprised at the action since he was only playing along to what she instigated.

He turned towards the blonde who stared at them wide-eyed, as if she almost forgot they were married and shot her a roguish wink. “Oh, I think my _wife_ and I will have a good time.”

Before the woman could retort, Lucy bid her a curt goodbye and practically dragged Flynn along the way to the elevators.

“Feeling jealous, Lucy?” Flynn teased, his grin wide.

Realizing that she’s still clutching onto his jacket, Lucy released her grasp on his arm as if the very touched burned her. “No.”  

His chesire-like smile never faltered as he trailed behind her through the hallway.

With turn of the key into the hole, the wooden door opened and the fragrance of fresh linen sheets along with the musty smell of wood filled their senses. It was definitely no Holiday Inn (though Lucy was sure that wasn’t founded until 1958 in Memphis, Tennessee), but the hotel suite definitely had its rustic charm to it.

The room was illuminated by stand lamps which was seemingly situated in every corner of the rooms. Strobe lights of purple and red from neon billboards outside the room flashed in the room. The wallpaper was of floral pattern, something that looked like it belonged in a grandmother’s home. There seemed to be countless floral portraits adorning the wall, save for the odd landscape painting. The flooring was surprisingly not wooden but rather a matte slab. In the bedroom, however, there was a red carpet with an intricate design that covered most of the floor space.

The bed itself was surprisingly small in size. Covered in pillows and a comforter that shared the same, white colour, it definitely didn’t look like a King-sized bed despite what the receptionist had offered. It appeared no bigger than a single. Above it, the fancy chandelier than hung from the dark-painted ceiling seemed to be out of order, leaving them to rely on lamps and the outdoor lights.

“Well,” Flynn said, looking around the room with interest. “It’s not exactly what I had in mind. The bed can be bigger but I guess we can make due.”

“ _We,”_ Lucy started, gesturing between the two of them, “are most definitely _not_ sleeping in the same bed. You can take it and I’ll sleep somewhere else.”

“Oh, but I’m sure if it was your Wyatt, you wouldn’t mind sleeping with him.” Lucy flinched at the double entendre hidden behind his words.

Flynn and Lucy never really talked about the elephant in the room; the elephant being Wyatt’s resurrected wife, Jessica, and his relationship with Lucy. He had respected her space, opting to silently comfort her. He was hoping that she’d open up to him about that if he gave her time, instead of all the self-pity.

But she never did. And she’s only spiraling downwards.

She fought back a retort. Instead, she walked towards their bedroom. Flynn walked over to their bedroom and leaned against the doorframe, shuffling his feet against the carpeted floor. “Must be… _awkward_ between you two.”

Lucy shook her head, refusing to turn around and look up at him. “It’s not awkward between us,” she stated.

“Wyatt and Rufus giggling like schoolboys about Wyatt’s late night activities with Jessica. That wasn’t awkward?” Flynn asked, his eyebrows raised.  

Of course Flynn knew what they talked about. The man hid in the shadows, quietly observing everything, everyone. But that didn’t mean he didn’t care. He did, in his own way. And confronting this particular issue with Lucy showed that he was concerned.

“Nope,” she emphatically responded.

He pressed on. “So, that’s not why you secretly keep a bottle of vodka under your bed?”

That got her attention. Lucy fell silent for a moment before she turned around, unblinking. “Are you spying on me?” she asked, her voice dangerously low.

“No. I do remember reading about it in your journal.” He lifted his head up from the wooden floor to meet her skeptical gaze. “Lucy, when you gave me that book –”

“Which may or not be true,” she interjected, to which Flynn’s olive eyes hardened. She sat down on the bed and busied herself by sliding on her silk, white gloves, ignoring the approaching steps.

Flynn’s face contorted. “No. You gave it to _me._ You wanted _me_ to read it and I _did._ Look, at first, all I cared was that it was a tool to take down Rittenhouse. But the more I read it, the longer I stayed with it, the more I felt like I knew you. Understood you,” Flynn explained, wanting her to understand – to connect with her but seeing that she didn’t care to what he had to say, he felt himself losing composure. “Lucy – damn it – sometimes, I feel like I know you better than you know yourself.”

She snapped. “What do you want from me, Flynn?” Lucy bit back, reveling at the look of Flynn flinching from her sudden tone. “You don’t know me.”

He opened his mouth, wanting to tell her exactly what he wanted from her. That he wanted her to accept him, to turn to him when she’s needs a shoulder to lean him. To talk to him when days are rough. To see him more than a substitute soldier for Wyatt. That despite branding him as a terrorist, he will be always be there for her.

But the cowardice in him overpowered his true thoughts. 

He swallowed and gave her a tiny smile. “Well…” he started before his smiled slipped. “I guess we’re having our own ‘awkward moment’ right now.”

It pained Flynn that Lucy didn’t understand how much she had helped him – or was about to later in the future. She had helped him find a purpose in life when he’d thought he had nothing left to fight for. Not when his wife and daughter were killed. Yet, she presented him when an option; to wallow up in his misery or turn his grief into something better.

For two years, Flynn had nothing but her journal. For two years, he studied her entries like it was his bible. It might as well been. He was so focused on vengeance, he couldn’t recall when his hatred for Rittenhouse also morphed into compassion and kindness for Lucy. Flynn, no doubt, would go to great lengths to support and protect Lucy just like she had done to him through her journal.

To meet again a few years later after their encounter only to realize that they were on the opposite sides of this fight and that she didn’t really know him tore him apart. But now, at this moment, they were together, fighting this long war side by side, but the way she looked up at him with steely eyes, they might as well still be enemies.

Seeing that this conversation was good as done, Flynn picked up his fedora he had placed on a nearby table. Before he could leave, her voice stopped him in his tracks.

“You’re such an ass, you know that?” Lucy said but without scorn or malice. She just sounded…tired.

“So I’ve been told countless times by our less than stellar roommates.”

She chuckled softly at that. Yes, while living with Flynn was definitely not a preferred choice, he certainly wasn’t all that bad. Well, Rufus and Wyatt may say something differently, but to Lucy, he had been nothing but civil with the occasion of being an ass – but she couldn’t fault him since she was pretty sure he was born like that.

“Flynn,” Lucy called out to him. “You always, _always_ mention my journal. One would think you’d have that damn thing memorized by now.”

“I do,” Flynn affirmed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I memorized every single thing you wrote down; every single name, date, moment, detail.”

“Then, why do you always carry it around?”

He looked at the carpeted flooring, as if the intricate patterns woven was suddenly more interesting. Lucy knew this was his way of deflecting, but as the silence drew on, she knew it was only a couple of more seconds he would tell her.

And she was right.

“As a reminder. I carried it around as a reminder,” Flynn started quietly, Lucy almost thought she was hearing nothing, but he looked up at her. “It was proof that you existed. Proof that you believed that I was capable of something more despite being a broken shell of a man. Proof that maybe later on, you’d trust me with your most innermost thoughts. Maybe even…”

“Even what?” she prompted.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Flynn, tell me.”

He sat down beside her on the bed and laced his fingers together. “When you give a journal that’s filled with your privates thoughts, whether that be important information or your own musings, you’d give it to someone whom you trusted wholeheartedly, right?”

“Yes, and?”

“You’d give it to someone you trusted and perhaps even loved.” She opened her mouth to protest but the look in Flynn’s pleading eyes made her think against it. “I know you don’t love me. At least, not right now. But future you…you gave me a something that you held most dear. You allowed me to read your darkest secrets, your sorrows, your motivations. You _trusted_ me this much to go back into a timeline where you already existed and gave me your journal personally. You didn’t give it to Connor Mason, Agent Christopher, Wyatt or Rufus. You gave it to _me._ ”

Lucy always knew her journal was important to the older man but she didn’t understand to what extent. Yet, as Flynn regarded her with a look of idolization mixed with something else she couldn’t quite place, she finally understood. A journal filled with innumerable details about her personal life, it was no wonder that Flynn had conjured this amazing version of her in his head. That he felt _connected_ with her through her writing. If the situation was in reverse, she, too, would think that maybe Garcia Flynn would be in love with her or at least, had a deep understanding of each other if he trusted her with his darkest, most innermost thoughts.

The historian boldly reached a gloved hand to his wrist and gave it a soft squeeze and said, “I don’t love you but I don’t hate you either.”

That alone was enough for Flynn. She saw it in his smile, the way his eyes brightly shined. He didn’t need to hear her undying love for him. Just her accepting him in her life was enough.

“I never thanked you, by the way.”

He cocked his head. “For what, if I may ask?”

“For comforting me the other week,” she answered. “I don’t know how much you overheard, but having you there…it made me felt like I wasn’t alone.”

This time, Flynn lifted a hand and tentatively placed it on her knee. “You aren’t alone, Lucy.”  

She scoffed at that. Of course she knew she wasn’t alone. At least, not literally. She still had Rufus, Wyatt, Denise, Connor and Jiya. The fact she had slept with Wyatt in 1941 didn’t destroy her relationships she had with the team.

But that doesn’t mean she had felt the looks from everyone every time she walked in the room.

She had slipped into depression, feeling utterly lost, finding comfort in alcohol. It was utterly cliché and irresponsible, if not illogical for her but it certainly help alleviate the never ending pain Lucy felt.

It was only recent did she find out the Lucy’s practically a Rittenhouse Princess. But unlike them, she had _morals_. And those morals caused her to reject her bloodline, leaving no choice but her own mother to try and kill her – the anomaly. To make matters worse, the team were fugitives from the American Government, losing all chance for Lucy to get the opportunity to restore the timeline right and get her half-sister, Amy, back; her only family.

This was all payback, wasn’t it? By rejecting her family, they have brought back Jessica from the dead, hoping to lose all chance of happiness with Wyatt. And they were right. Wyatt chose his resurrected wife over her, Rufus had his own issues dealing with his psychic girlfriend and Denise Christopher only viewed her as a valuable asset.

Now that Lucy thought about it, the only person that ever shown that they’ve cared was the man sitting beside her in this mid-1930s bed. When the pain was still fresh, Flynn had silently comforted her with cheap beer, black and white films, and his presence. But he wasn’t the exactly the coddling kind.

Tonight, Flynn had pushed her, made her lash out, only for her to realize that this is his way of caring. This was his way of trying to snap her out of her stupor and encourage her to get better. This was his way of telling her that everything will be okay, that he’s here for her.

“No, I’m not alone,” she agreed before looking up at him, her honeyed eyes seeking reassurance. “I have you, don’t I?”

Flynn gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll always have me, Lucy.”

She briefly wondered if all of this was in her journal too. This scenario, Flynn comforting her, knowing what to say. But the kindness and affection in his green eyes as he looked down at her was in no way fake. He really meant every word he said. Lucy couldn’t help but feel a leap in her chest as regarded her with such fondness on his face.

She didn’t _love_ Garcia Flynn. But like she had previously mentioned, she didn’t _hate_ him either.

Perhaps, their relationship will always be indescribable, their bond strung together by a leather bound notebook. Perhaps, maybe by then, she’d figure out the right words to accurate describe what they are to each other. And when Flynn would read it in the future, he’d have the words too.

Until then, this moment of peace was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos to show your appreciation, especially leaving a comment as well!


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